


Shadows of a Rotting Apple

by SnowTiefling



Series: Abrams [6]
Category: Shadowrun
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowTiefling/pseuds/SnowTiefling
Summary: The adventures of Abrams (current time line) and his friends.





	1. Rotten Cops

Abrams sat in his beat up old truck parked alongside a row of small businesses that had seen better days. Their signs were physical, neon glowing dimly in the late night fog that had settled over the neighborhood. Across the street the businesses were pristine, their signs in the physical world were plain, but when he slid on his glasses and looked at them in augmented reality, they lit up like Christmas trees. Those businesses, in that shopping center, were corporate. They had money behind them, the ones on his side of the street didn’t have that kind of backing. They were locally owned, and it showed. 

Sitting in his truck next to him was his partner for the night a dwarf who went by the street name “Pancake”. She had seemed nervous when he picked her up for the job earlier, this was probably one of her first runs. Her purple hair and wide eyes were now hidden under a thick hood as she pretended to sleep, her fingers twitching on top of her cyberdeck. Abrams had seen that kind of deck before, cheap toss off piece of drek. He had also seen another runner using one, and the way his had lit up and beeped. Hers was quiet, it had no lights. Which, as far as Abrams could tell, meant her deck was off. Which made her a technomancer. Some runners would be twitchy, they say technomancers can blink and steal the money out of everyone’s credsticks within a mile. They say that technomancers were evil, and were going to crash the matrix just for fun. They also say that all trolls are howling barbarians that eat children whole. They say a lot of stupid drek. Abrams didn’t care. She was his decker, he was her muscle, and they had a job.

“5 commlinks, running silent. Those must be our boys.” Pancake said, and his A.R. suddenly showed 5 glowing red frowny faces coming around the corner, matching up to the 5 Howlers gang members that danced into view. “Drek, one of the stores across the street just pinged the cops. What do we do?”

Abrams shrugged “What we got hired to do. Protect Mamma Joe’s. Convince the gangers to slag off, one way or another. You’re getting their gear ready for a big crash?” Pancake nodded, her fingers moving over her deck “Yep. Me and rusty here are working on it.” She lied, still, but she had to, and Abrams didn’t call her on it. 

“MAMMA JOE!” One of the gangers screamed “Get your trog ass out here and give us our nuyen!” The Howlers were one of Abrams’ favorite kind of contract targets. A gang of anti-metahuman racists. The same kind that had given him the scar across his neck when he was 14. The rest of the gangers laughed, waving baseball bats and tire irons around as if those were going to be enough. 

Across the street 2 of New York’s finest showed up, and leaned against the Stuffer Shacks wall. Mamma Joe didn’t have a contract with NYPD Inc. Stuffer Shack did. “Let me know if they cops decide to get involved, Pancake.” She nodded, and Abram’s opened his truck door and set one heavy boot on the pavement. Across the street the cops pointed at him, and his earbuds picked up a bit of their conversation. “That trog is gonna wreck those gangers, I’d put money on it.” 

“No damn way, 5 of them can take him, don’t care how big he is. You’re on! If they win you gotta pay for my next novacoke score.”

“Hah you and that drek. Fine, and if he wins you and that elf junkie you hang out with gotta blow me.”

“You know about that?”

Abrams ignored them both, his eyes on the Howlers. “Hey you fraggin trog, what you looking at? Get back in your fraggin truck!” The Howlers apparent leader shouted at him. He smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

“Mamma Joe doesn’t much care for you drek heads.” Abrams said, loud enough for the 5 gangers to hear. “She’s tired of you coming around even after she’s paid. She’s sick of it. Your little gang is nothing. Just a bunch of punks with too much synthetic courage and not enough brains to know when to slag off.” The looks on their faces, the shock, then indignation, then rage, made Abrams grin. “This is your only warning. Slag off. Don’t come back.”

The cops across the streets chatter buzzed in Abrams’ earbud again. “Trogs got stones, if he kills them I bet we can get some nuyen off of him. Get a nice bribe to not have his truck towed.” Typical. 

“You must have stones in that ugly head of yours. 5 of us, one of you. Must not be able to do math, you dumbass. GET HIM!” Their leader shouted, and shoved the nearest Howler in Abrams direction. The Howler, living up to their gangs name, howled something that might have been a warcry and charged, followed closely by the other 3 mooks.

Abrams was fast, his biology had been upgraded to improve his reflexes and speed. The first ganger reached him and swung with abandon at Abrams, the baseball bat connected and shattered on the armored jacket that Abrams wore under his long duster. The gangers face shattered next, as Abrams’ massive fist caved in his skull. Blood dripping from his knuckles he followed through, letting his armor and speed protect him from the gangers crude weapons. Ribs, skulls, and ribcages cracked under his fists. 

Then the leaders gun went click. “What the drek?” The racist human shouted. Click. Click. Click. Smoke rose from the machine pistols circuitry, Pancake had bricked it hard. 

“Want me to turn off his Cyberlimbs? Both legs, one arm with spurs. Decent stuff, but they belong to Pancake now.” Abrams’ grin got wider as he shot back an approving text. :: Yes. :) :) ::

“Oh drek, oh drek, I can’t move. Drek, no you damn trog, nonononono.” The Howlers leader was panicking. Still pointing the useless gun at Abrams’ massive chest and pulling the trigger deperately. “What did you do to my legs?”

Abrams reached out and wrenched the gun from the humans hands not so gently. “I told you, Mamma Joe doesn’t want your little gang around here anymore. Do you want your legs back? Or should I pull them off of you and let you crawl back to your boss?” 

“Fu…fuck you..trog…” The human spit, and Abrams shook his head. He reached over and held the humans cyberarm in his massive fist “This cost a lot of nuyen, didn’t it?” The mans eyes got wide, and Abrams took the arm in both hands and smiled at him “I thought so.”

::Pancake, can you disconnect his pain sensors from this arm for me?:: He shot the text to her, and not a second later he got a short reply ::Done, and the connection has been released.:::

Abrams pulled and the arm snapped loose easily. “Ah, I seem to have disarmed you.” He joked, the human sputtering and shaking his head. “Now, you go back to your boss and you tell him what I did to you and your boys. If he has a problem with that he can come find me. I’ll be right here the rest of the night. Understand? But if you come back, you better bring an army. I’m better than 5 of you combined, you didn’t even scratch me. And if Mamma Joe sees one of you even looking her way again, I’ll come find you.” He poked the human in his chest with his own hand “And I will dismantle your 2 bit gang and leave your corpses for the devil rats to chew on. Understood?”

The human was sweating at this point, and just nodded. The smell of urine hit Abrams’ nose as the little man pissed himself. Pancake released his legs and the Howler ran off, back to his boss. Or maybe to pick up a clean pair of pants first.

::Cops coming now.:: Abrams turned, and sure enough now that the fight was over the 2 NYPD Inc. officers were walking across the street, whistling. “Evening officers, a nice night isn’t it?”

“That’s an illegal cyberlimb your holding there, citizen.” Abrams looked down and held up the gangers arm “This? Oh this isn’t mine, the young gang member seems to have lost it while trying to assault me.”

The cops looked at the 4 broken bodies lying on the ground behind him “We saw that. We’re going to have to take that for evidence.” The taller of the 2 said “And that pistol too, of course.” 

::Abrams should I shut them down?::: Abrams shot back a message ::No. Stay quiet, stay low. They don’t know you’re there. I got this.::

“Of course officer, I would hate for some hooligan to find these dangerous weapons and sell them for lots of nuyen to some criminal.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling cooperative, citizen. Just kick them right over here to us.” Abrams complied, still smiling. “There’s a processing fee for evidence as well.”

“I’m sure there is, officer. I’m sure that those 4 gangers have enough creds on them to cover it, they might even have other contraband on them. Novacoke, perhaps.” He smiled at the druggie cop whose eyes briefly lit up. “And…well, I am waiting for a friend here, and that ganger might come back with more friends to hassle me. If they do I’m sure they will have more valuable contraband on them, 2 upstanding officers of the law such as yourselves will be happy to process all of their illegal goods to get them off of the streets.”

The cops looked at each other, and then at Abrams, and smiled “We can work something out, I’m sure.”

A few hours later 2 cops walked off with a bag full of illegal and valuable goods, and Abrams drove away from a small pile of dead gangers, Pancake looking out the window. “You sure you’re alright?” She asked for the 4th time since he had gotten in his truck.

“Yeah, I got shot. It happens. Small caliber, it will cost me some nuyen at a street doc to get it out. I’ll be fine. Just stings.” He looked over at her “Are you? That was some good work, I count what, 9 cyberlimbs, 2 sets of cybereyes, and 4 guns bricked total? You kept me alive with your matrix hoodoo.” Her face spun towards him.

“Not hoodoo, hacking, I just used my deck.” She stammered, clutching her deck tightly. He smiled and nodded. 

“Of course, the one that’s been off since I picked you up. That deck.” Her face went pale. 

“What happens now? Now that you know?” She whispered.

“We get paid. I tell Madam Wu how good you are at your job. You remember to turn your deck on next time, and we exchange comms. If you need me, you call me.”

“That’s it?” She asked and he nodded. She relaxed and smiled her first real smile of the night. “Thanks Abrams.” 

“No problem. You can call me Jason.” 

“Ok. So Jason, want to go get some food? I’m starving.”

“Sure, what you in the mood for?” He asked, having a hunch.

“Pancakes and bacon, sound good?”

“Sure. I could eat a Pancake right now.” He looked over at her and winked, making the dwarf woman blush. “I, uh, well…” she stammered “Maybe later.” She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Lets get food and get paid, and then…” She blushed again and looked out the window.


	2. A Meeting With Madam Wu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancake meets with Madam Wu to get paid

Pancake shuffled her feet nervously as she waited outside the closed door to Madam Wu’s private office. Behind her she could feel the pulse of the clubs music thumping through the wall and into her back. There was matrix activity tickling against her senses, always there. If she just closed her eyes she would be in the club with the other patrons, dancing in her virtual body in the clubs matrix host, her living persona more graceful than her own flesh and blood body could ever be. But she couldn’t do that, not now at least. First she had to finish business. She wriggled in her seat, trying to hide deeper in her hooded jacket. Madam Wu made her nervous. To be fair, most people made Pancake a little bit nervous. But especially Madam Wu.

The heavy door glided open quietly and a narrow faced elf man looked down at her. Most people looked down at her, at only 4′ tall she was shorter than most humans or elves, but taller than most of the other dwarfs around. Her legs were more human as well, longer than the average dwarf. She looked almost human, making her a pariah in the insular dwarven community she grew up with. Her parents had hid their shame well. She slid off the chair and walked into Madam Wu’s office, past the cold eyes of the elven attendant. 

“Pancake, it is good to see you. Please, sit.” Madam Wu’s voice was melodic and precise, and the older woman motioned towards the chair in front of her desk. One of many in the room. Most were against the wall, human sized. Others, like the one in front of Madam Wu’s desk, sized for her dwarf clients. Other, massive chairs rested there too, for her troll clients. Pancake reached up and brushed the hood of her jacket out of the way. She sat, comfortably, and braced herself as the heavy door closed.

As soon as the room was sealed Pancake felt her connection to the wireless world severed, it was like suddenly losing your sight or hearing would be for a normal person (she supposed). The elf had stepped outside, and she was alone with Madam Wu, cut off from the world outside, the wireless matrix. “I apologize of course for the Faraday Cage, I know it is uncomfortable for you.” Her employer stated simply, regarding her over steepled fingers. “Your run with Abrams was very successful. He was most impressed with your skills.”

Pancake fiddled with the string from her jacket. “The gangers had almost no matrix protection. Cheap comms, it wasn’t as impressive as he made it sound.” She said, looking anywhere but into Madam Wu’s fierce eyes. The other woman slid a small credstick across the table to her, tapping it with a precisely manicured and painted nail. “Your payment, and Momma Joe’s thanks.” Pancake took the credstick and slipped it into one pocket. “How did you get along with Abrams?” Madam Wu asked, leaning back. 

Pancake felt a flush rising to her cheek. “I, ah…” She started and realized that Madam Wu had a small smile on her face at her faltering sentence. “He was very professional.” She finished quietly, trying to force the blush out of her cheeks. 

The quiet stretched for what Pancake was sure was hours until finally she glanced up at Madam Wu. The older woman was smiling, watching her with warmth. “Very professional. I see.” The older woman nodded. “He is at that, almost to a fault at times. It is not always easy finding him work, but I understand and respect his ethics.” She sighed and shook her head. “Professional and perceptive. Did he learn your secret?” Pancake nodded. Being a technomancer, someone who could access the matrix biologically, was something that made her a freak. If the wrong type of person found out she could be killed or worse, betrayed to a corporation that would experiment on her “for science”.

“Of course he did. His reaction wasn’t as bad as you feared, I take it?” Pancake shook her head, glad the question of how well she got along with Abrams had gone to the wayside. She had gotten along very well with the big troll, and they had dinner together. And then breakfast. Between those 2 meals lay the activities that had made her cheeks turn red.

“Good, I am glad to hear it. I will contact you with more work soon, I am sure. I will try to find others that are as understanding of your abilities as Abrams. It may not be easy.” Pancake nodded. “I understand Madam Wu.”

Madam Wu nodded and motioned towards the door, which opened on cue, the elf stepping back into the room. “Enjoy the club, if you’d like. Your SIN has been authorized for one of the private rooms for the next week if you’d prefer to enjoy it in VR.” The older woman stood, offering her hand to her. Pancake stood as well and reached up slightly to grasp hands with her employer, amazed as ever at the firm, dangerous strength those fingers held despite the womans seeming frailty. “One more thing, Pancake. Do be careful, Abrams is a street samurai, he is in constant danger. Do not grow overly attached to others in the shadows.” Madam Wu’s eyes showed old pain, and regret, but Pancake didn’t notice. She was biting her lips and blushing again. 

“Thank you for your concern, Madam Wu. I will do my best.” She replied, putting her hood back up and stepping out into the hallway and feeling the pulse of the clubs music return, and along with it the flood of sensation of the wireless matrix. She was already sending Abrams a message asking him to meet her at the club. Why let a private room go to waste?


	3. A Home Cooked Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> writing prompt for my long dead SR5 game that wanted the characters to explore what a home cooked meal meant to them

Abrams lay in his large, comfortable bed staring at the ceiling. He had been awake for almost an hour, but he hadn’t gotten up yet. Pressed firmly against his broad chest was the warm flesh of his friend and lover Pancake. He held her gently and sighed, she didn’t always sleep well. Sometimes she didn’t sleep at all, other times she woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. He didn’t need to sleep much, his bioware augmentation made it so he only needed 3 hours a night. Against his arm Pancake began to twitch, a low mumbling, incoherent words, and then she let out a small cry and bolted upright, panting and looking around in a panic, her chest heaving under her t-shirt. 

“You alright Pancake?” He asked and she shook her head, mumbling an apology. “Want to talk about it?” He asked, rubbing her back with his large hand.

“Do your parents know you run, Jason?” She asked quietly. “Do they know about your ‘ware? You’re life?” She asked, taking ragged breaths and wiping tears off of her cheeks.

“No. My dad was never around, and my ma…she died before I got involved in the shadows.” He said pulling Pancake down into his arms. “I don’t know what she’d think of my life now. I think I’ve done some good, but its not the life she would have wanted for me.”

“I ran away from home, my parents thought I was a freak for a dwarf. Too human looking, too tall, legs too long. And then they figured out that I was a technomancer. I’d hear them arguing about me, at night. All the time. What to do with their freak daughter.” She let out a ragged breath against his chest. “I remember all of it, the way they’d look at me when they didn’t know I could see their faces through their imagelinks.” 

“You aren’t a freak, Jessica. And I think my ma would have liked you.” She looked up at him and smiled She looked up at him and smiled, brushing tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Tell me about her?”

Abrams nodded and closed his eyes. “She was strict but never unreasonable. She wanted me to get an education, work my way into the system. Be legit, not be a criminal. Not live up to the stereotypes about trolls. You know, dangerous violent criminals, howling mindlessly gun in one hand axe in the other.” He sighed sadly. “I think I let her down a bit there.” 

“When she could she’d use any extra cred we had, and we didn’t have much, to pick up some real fruit, whatever she could get, and she’d bake pies for the church. She’d always do it for Christmas, at least. It was something she said her parents used to do for her, and her grand parents, and so on. Sometimes she’d have to use flavored soy for filling but she hated that. They never really tasted the same, and they never smelled the same. A real fruit pie smells so good as it bakes.” He could remember the smell and he smiled, broadly, and his heart ached. “You would have loved it, I think. She’d make breakfast sometimes, the whole house would smell so good and warm.” He let out a long sigh.

He opened his eyes and Pancake reached up and brushed his cheek, wiping away the trail of tears gently. “That sounds so nice, and you think she would have liked me?” He nodded, and pulled her closer, his lips brushing hers. Her warmth made him hurt less. Made him miss home less. Made him forget the smell of warm apples and cinnamon, blueberry and sweet potato, pecans and fresh crust.


	4. Retirement plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another writing prompt, wanting us to explore how our runners thought about retirement

Spread out on the makeshift table were the parts to two pistols, oils, cleaning cloths, and other tools. Great care was being taken on the part of Abrams and his friend Miranda to make sure that their guns were kept in good working order. They worked in relative silence, only the low sound of snoring from the sleeping area and the sound of the city waking up to disturb them as they worked. Abrams tapped the table with one finger tip and looked at Miranda, she nodded and then they both began to reassemble their guns as quickly as possible.

Miranda set hers down a few seconds before Abrams and leaned back, grinning. “I win again, big guy.” Abrams grunted finally setting his down on the table in front of him and nodded.

“Its cause you’re a cheating human, with tiny little human fingers.” He said, smiling broadly. “So what’s on your mind Miranda? You said you needed to talk.” He asked, standing up and going to the fridge. “Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks, got any more of the Frost Hog?” Abrams sat a chilled bottle in front of her and she popped it open and took a pull from it. “Ah, good stuff. Yeah, one of my uncles died. Left me some money.” She held up her hand and shook her head as Abrams began to talk. “We weren’t really close, he worked too much and lived too far.” She sighed. “My job is getting rougher, you know? The corp has a discount program on ‘ware. I don’t want chrome, and I know you’ve had work done.” She smirked. “All perfectly legal I’m sure, Mr. Dmitri Strakhov. Just wanted some advice.” 

“Anything to make you faster, more accurate, or keep you healthy really. There’s so much drek out there to really do much better. You’re looking at bio augs? They’re more expensive than chrome.”

Miranda nodded and sighed. “Yeah, but with my work discount I can afford to spend a bit more money to keep all of my parts that I’ve worked so hard on. These guns didn’t come cheap you know.” She patted one thick bicep and grinned. “Years of hard work I don’t want to lose. Also, if I get chromed up one of your decker friends might break me, its bad enough having to deal with mages throwing drek around without having to worry even more about some bithead glitching me.” She frowned. “It is a lot of money though. If it was more.” She stopped. “If it was enough I’d just quit my job, set myself up, retire. Not have to worry about some ganger getting the drop on me.” She smiled wistfully. “Retirement. What would you do Jason?” She asked quietly.

Abrams stopped and looked around his tiny apartment with the peeling paint and makeshift furniture. The plastic wire spool he used as a table. The curtain that served as a door to his bedroom. Literally, just a room with a mattress in it because that’s all that would fit. A snore from that direction made him smile. “Every runner dreams of the big score.” He started. “That run that sets you up for life, lets you retire somewhere where your enemies can’t find you, eating real fruit and real meat every night.” He shook his head sadly. “I try not to think about it to be honest. I’m a warrior. I put my life on the line, just like you do Miranda. Odds are one day I’ll run into someone with more ‘ware than me, a bigger gun, or a run will go sideways and I’ll have to deal with some elite corpsec strike team. I’ll cover my team as they bail. I just hope that when that happens someone will come back for whatever is left of me.”


	5. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This work wasn't based on a writing prompt, but it came right after the Retirement Plans writing prompt.

Pancake stirred and rolled over, reaching an arm out for the troll who she hoped would still be next to her. He wasn’t, and she opened her eyes slowly, breathing in his scent from his side of the massive bed. Her head was foggy, her living persona hadn’t finished rebooting yet. Another hour or 2 before she could slide into the matrix and do whatever it is his friend needed her to do. She sat up and brushed her red and brown hair away from her eyes, blinking out the crust of sleep. From the living area she could hear Abrams’ low rumbling voice. He was probably on comm with one of his runner connections. She yawned widely and scratched her side through her favorite t-shirt. “Time for morning kaf and morning kiss.” She muttered to herself, and crawled out of the troll sized bed and past the curtain into the living room.

“… someone will come back for whatever is left of me.” Abrams’ soft rumble reached her ears and she smiled stretching her arms up over her head to pull her t-shirt up past her belly button, wriggling her toes in the shag rug. “Jaaaaason.” She murmured, eyes closed and half grinning. “Ready for breakfast?” There was a polite cough, not Abrams. Not Abrams?

She opened her eyes and immediately dropped her arms and pulled her t-shirt down to cover herself, instantly wishing she had been wearing pants or anything other than just her t-shirt, her face turning hot and red and flustered as she realized that across from Abrams was perhaps the tallest, most muscular woman she had ever seen outside of a trid. The other woman was politely looking away, biting her bottom lip and trying not to laugh. Abrams was not being as polite, curse him, and he was laughing into his hands and looking up at the ceiling shaking his head. She dashed back behind the bedroom curtain and the shorts she left here to sleep in, the ones she had stopped wearing to bed weeks ago. “Pancake I’m sorry I didn’t want to wake you!” Abrams said from the living room, a note of laughter still in his rumbling voice.

“Slag off!” She shouted back, her voice faltering slightly. Still blushing and fumbling into her shorts she closed her eyes and cursed herself. Of course Abrams’ friend would already be here, why wouldn’t she be here? And she was so tall. A twinge of jealously hit her, she was so tall, and buff, and wow. Had he ever… No. Abrams wasn’t like Dubs, he would have told her if his friend was more than just a friend. She composed herself and shook her head clear, and stepped back into the living room.

“Pancake…” Abrams began and she shook her head and walked up behind him, running her hands along his thick braided hair and then gave it a rough yank. “You should have told me you ass.” She said, smiling, and pulling his head down over the edge of the sofa to give him a kiss. 

“Yeah, sorry, you were sleeping so well, I hated to wake you up. Its not every night you sleep all the way through. This is Miranda, the friend I was telling you about?” She sighed and looked up. The other woman waved and was also slightly flushed.

“Hi, Jason’s told me a lot about you. Its nice to meet you.” The other woman smiled and held out her hand. Pancake walked over and shook it. “He didn’t tell me you were a Zeta fan though. Which episode is your favorite?” Miranda asked, motioning at Pancakes shirt.

Pancakes eyes lit up, Miranda also liked Zeta Warrior Wizard? “Well, the one where she has to save Bull from the bug spirits, duh, and she almost kisses Galadria in the hot tub! The producers really know how to tease us don’t they?”

“Frag yeah, but what about the one where they’re all stuck in the ice cave with the Wendigo?” Pancake nodded and turned to Abrams, mouthing “I like her!” to the big troll, who just grinned and stood up, going to the kitchen. “I’ll get us some food, you two get keep talking. We can discuss business later, I guess.” 

Pancake watched as the troll walked into the other room, she sat down on the round table in front of Miranda. “Sorry about the peep show earlier.” She whispered looking at her feet, her toes digging into the shaggy carpet. 

“Null persp.” The large woman said quietly. “It happens. Guess I ruined your breakfast plans?” She said, grinning. Pancake flushed again, biting her bottom lip. The other woman slapped her on the knee and leaned back. “You blush a lot. Just like Galadria in season 1.”

Pancake looked up and started laughing. “Noooooo, she was so annoying in season 1 though! Take that back!” Miranda grinned and shook her head.

“Nope, you blush like season 1 Galadria!” Miranda said, putting both hands to her cheek and mimicking the characters signature embarrassed look.

“Jason, your friend is being mean to me!” Pancake yelled, laughing. From the kitchen Abrams just grunted, shaking his head. “Fine. Jackass.” She smiled at the other woman. “He mentioned you had work for me?”

Miranda nodded. “Yeah, a bunch of old pictures I need taken off the matrix. Basically anything of me that I don’t want to be floating around out there. You can do that?” Pancake nodded. 

“Should be able to, he told me you’re a cop.” She asked, and Miranda nodded slowly. “What I’m doing wouldn’t technically be really all that, you know, legal. This isn’t some sort of elaborate sting is it?” Abrams laughed from the kitchen and she glowered at her lover.

“I know all about the life that Abrams lives, Pancake. The legal and the illegal sides of it. You’re secrets are safe with me as long as you aren’t one of the crazy ones killing innocent people and blowing up buildings left and right.”

“OK, I can do that. After breakfast.” Pancake said, nodding and thinking about the different hosts and file searches she’d have to do. It would be a challenge. She looked up and Miranda had an eyebrow raised. “After breakfast, huh?” Pancake blushed again and kicked the other woman’s leg weakly and they both laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the post run 1 fiction, this is where Miranda gets Pancake to wipe out embarrassing photo's of her from the matrix.


	6. Fatherly Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine on Tumblr gave me this writing prompt, I actually wrote it after the next chapter but it belongs here chronologically.

Miranda nursed her soykaf slowly, sitting across the table was the grizzled grey headed old man that she was proud to call dad. “You wanted to talk, kid. Spill it.” Her dad muttered around his bacon flavored krill patty. Of course, neither of them had ever had real bacon, so they had to take the corporate marketing at their word as far as the flavor went. 

Miranda let out a long sigh, and leaned back, looking at the ceiling. “It's a long story, dad. You sure you want to hear it?” Her father nodded, motioning with his fork. “Alright, well, you raised me to always respect the law, and the force. You served, grandma served, our family bleeds blue.” She looked down at her bacon shaped krill patty. “But I’m not sure what I’m doing is right anymore. Between the whole mess with Jackson, some friends I’ve made off the force, and some things I’ve found out about some of my coworkers I just don’t know anymore.”

Her dad stopped and sat his fork down, picking up his soykaf. “Tell me everything Miranda, from the beginning.” 

And she did. She opened up about meeting Abrams and how he saved her life. About Officer Davies and his illegal activities, murders in The Pitt and The Terminal, smuggling drugs, theft and extortion, and that was just the beginning. How Davies was being protected from someone higher up, how other officers that had crossed him had found themselves off the force or just gone, missing in action. “And I don’t know what to do. My troll friend, he’s a criminal, obviously. But he has a point. He works for the corporations, they hire him. How are we so different, when I’m working for the highest bidder too? And Davies, he’s dangerous, and I can’t touch him. But I can’t let him get away with it either. I don’t know what to do anymore dad. How can I keep going?” She rested her head in her hands and bit back a sob. “I’m lost.”

Her sat his cup down and reached across small table, touching her shoulder. “Sometimes what’s right isn’t legal, and not everything that’s legal is right.” He let out a heavy sigh.

“Back before I met your mom, when I was still a rookie, I found myself with 2 of my senior officers out in The Pitt. They said they wanted to do some extra training, help me get ahead in the force. Said I had potential. They took me out to this slum, stank of musk and piss and booze. They knocked on this door, no one answered, so Riley kicked it in. I didn’t know what was going on, I just went inside. The only person in the small apartment was this dwarf in a wheelchair. O’Malley starting hassling him. Asking him what the old man had for him, where his daughters were, all sorts of drek that I didn’t understand. I was a bit slow back then.” Her dad looked away. “Finally I caught on, O’Malley and Riley were punks, they were squeezing the old man for narcotics. And squeezing his daughters too, from the sound of it. The old man just spit at them and told them his daughters were done with pigs like them, and so was he.”

Her dads face grew dark, disgusted. “Riley hit him first, right across the jaw. Then O’Malley handed me his nightstick. Told me to help them take out the trash. I backed away from them both, told them to stop. That’s when Riley came after me. He caught me off guard, had me down, was choking me, behind me I could hear O’Malley beating the dwarf, killing him. Nothing I could do.” 

Her father's knuckles were white as he gripped the coffee cup. “I heard the roar from the doorway, and looked over. There she was, this scarred up elf. You know how most elves are these skinny frail looking things, no muscle, all grace and wispy, like they’d blow away if a breeze kicked up and tickled them in the ass? Not her, she was like you a bit. Muscles and gristle and meanness, old burn scars on one side of her face. Then this spirit came out of the air next to her, tore into O’Malley something fierce. I couldn’t see clearly, Riley almost had me out cold, I was just there, you know? On the verge of meeting the Lord. She flung some spell thing at Riley and he buckled and fell over, frothing. She looked down at me, a snarl on her lips, I think she was about to end me when the dwarf croaked out something, telling her to stop.”

Her dad slumped, relaxing, shaking his head. “I never told you about her, but she and I worked together a lot over the years. We both owe our lives to people who don’t really live on the right side of the law.” Miranda was stunned, her father had always seemed a steadfast man of The Law.

“So, what do I do dad?”

He frowned and drummed his fingers on the table. “If you think you can trust this troll friend of yours, and you’re sure Davies can’t be taken care of within the system, you do you best to protect and serve. But if you do, you be careful, don’t get caught. You go in with a plan, and you know what you’re doing. If you screw up, you’ll be done. If Davies’ crew doesn’t kill you outright, the system will nab you and you’ll serve hard time.” He reached over and touched his daughter's hand. “I love you Miranda, I trust you to do what’s just. Go with your gut.”


	7. crime and punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another writing prompt. :)

Miranda was tired of this drek. Officer Davies and his friends were murderers, extortionists, and worse. And someone higher up was profiting from their criminal activities in The Pit, taking their cut to keep them from being investigated. Miranda had never earned too many friends in the private police corporation. She was too focused on protecting and serving the people, and not the corporate interests. She had already turned in one person for extorting private citizens for personal gain and unsavory favors. She grimaced, that investigation had been rough on her. The corp didn’t like having to put away any of its own, even a scumbag like Jackson. 

Whistle blower was probably the nicest thing she had been called by her fellow cops during that whole mess. Trog-slogger, traitorous slot, and worse had been bandied about the locker rooms. Other cops didn’t want to look at her, eat with her, and there had been at least one attempt at an assault. Bringing down Davies and his crew, by the book, that would be even rougher. They had connections.

“Frag it.” She sent 2 messages, one was to a friend of hers, also dangerous. The second was to a friend of a friend, letting them know to notify Officer Davies that she knew and was going to be a problem, and where she might be at that evening.

Miranda sighed and checked her gear. Armor was in good repair, her weighted gloves, knee and elbow guards, and hardened boots would give any of her unarmed attacks more deadly. Her hand trailed over her corporate issued pistol and she shook her head. Next to it was a different gun, heavier. Personal, and off the books. Insurance. Ever since she had met that big lug Abrams she had begun seeing things differently. She still wanted to protect the people of her city, but he was making her think that maybe they needed more protection from the corps than they did from the gangs. Especially the SINless in places like The Pit. And especially from people like Davies. If things went sideways with Davies tonight she might have to turn to a life in the shadows. She closed her eyes and squashed that thought. Tonight she was going outside the law because the law couldn’t provide justice. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she?

She wasn’t sure, but she had started this. She would finish it. 

Night came and Miranda pretended to be searching through the dark warehouse on her own, gun at the ready, when a message flashed onto her augmented reality overlay. ::You’re friends are here Miranda. Be safe.:: And with that her augmented reality showed the position of Davies and his group of murderous cops. It also showed her the position of herself and 2 allies. She trusted them. She let out a long breath.

“Officer Wright! You in here?” Davies gravelly voice called out from somewhere to her left. “Are you OK?”

“I’m here, Davies is that you? I got a tip some drek head was hiding a load of BTLs in here! Figured a quick bust might look good, where you at?” She lied, and the words sounded hollow in her own ears. ::They’ve got a decker, I’m on him.:: Pancake was doing whatever the drek it was that technomancers did in the matrix. 

Davies rounded the corner, gun down. “Hey talls, you alone in here?” Miranda nodded and he smiled putting his gun away. “Good, that will make this easier then. Lets cut the crap Talls, you got beef with me and the boys? Trying to put us down like you did Jackson?” He spit and Miranda looked him in the eye.

“Not like Jackson, you and your boys are piles of drek.” She looked down at him and kept her gun in a ready low position. “Let me guess, its you and Kross. Dernheur is somewhere on the second floor with her rifle. Jones, Wash, and Kipps are going to try and circle around me, box me in. You, you’re just arrogant enough to want to look me in the eye before you frag me thinking you got all the angles covered.” Davies smiled an ugly smile and began to laugh.

“I’m arrogant? You think yer walking out of here Talls? No one knows yer here but you, me, and the boys. No one in the station will miss you, you dumb slot. Not after you ruined Jackson’s career. There’s one of you. And a lot more of us.”

There was a crack, and a dull thud, and the limp body of a scarred woman fell between Miranda and Davies, making the man scramble back. She had seen Abrams’ icon moving on Dernheur’s icon on her AR, and was expecting it, she leaped up, her foot lashing out like a viper and catching Davies’ off balance, right across his jaw, spinning him around, dazing him. She pressed the advantage, coming in tight on him, years of martial arts training and practice making her fists and feet a blur. Then the shooting started.

Davies’ backup came from around the side, and the loud crack of a shotgun echoed in the warehouse, catching her in the armored jacket, the impact making her stumble. Her own gun came up, and she squeezed off shots. ::Talls?::

::Not now Abrams.::

::Leave her alone, she’s kicking ass! Oh the decker is fried, I think I brain fried him. Working on guns now.::

Miranda grimaced, she took out Wash with a few well placed shots. She heard a pop and fizzle from behind her, and she spun on her heel, leveling the back of her heel into the skull of Officer Kipps, and following through with 3 shots into the other woman's torso. Another smoking ruin of a gun sailed at her face, and she ducked to the side, Jones was rushing at her with a knife. She ducked a wide swing, caught his arm on the back swing by the wrist, twisting and pulling him off balance, driving her forearm into his elbow and hearing it snap. Two shots into back and she was up. Gun fire echoed from the second floor, and she heard another body fall somewhere to her left. 

She stumbled forward as a solid slug tore into her back, her armor took most of it but she felt something come through. Her platelet factories kicked in, and her blood began clotting almost immediately, keeping her from bleeding out.

“You fragging slot.” Davies grunted, leveling his gun at her. “Should have taken you out after Jackson. He was a friend you know, a brother.” His gun began to smoke and he cursed and slapped her across the face with the heavy barrel.

“I’m going to bring him your head, you slot.” He gloated, rearing back for a kick. Miranda watched as the heavy boot sped towards her face and moved slightly to the side, her fist coming up and connecting with mans testicles, making him howl. She grabbed his leg and stood, rolling forward, hearing the man's hip pop as she dislocated his leg. She rolled into a stand and twisted, bringing her own boot down and stomping the man's skull.

He stopped moving. Her overlay revealed all of the enemy icons were gone. ::Its over Talls.::

She grimaced and sent Abrams the image of a rude gesture over their comms and sighed a long sigh of relief. She rifled through Davies’ clothes looking for his comm. Nothing but a cheap meta-link. Damnit, now she wouldn’t be able to find out who his guardian demon was in the force.

::You alright Miranda?:: Abrams’ icon popped up. 

::Yeah. Not sure what happens next. Didn’t get his comm, just some cheap drek.:: 

Abrams walked around the corner, looked around. “These the guys you expected?” She nodded and he grunted. “You gonna be OK Talls?” He asked, grinning. 

“Don’t call me that, you jackass.” She growled at him. “Take what you want, Abrams. I’ll be outside with Pancake.”


	8. The Scream

Abrams boots crunched into the old concrete street as he stepped out of the reinforced van, as he did the van creaked its goodbye to the nearly 9 foot tall troll. He slapped the side of it gently and it rumbled off into the night. He was glad the night was cool, under his loose civilian clothing he was wearing his full armor, chest, arms, and legs. In the large suitcase that he carried was his assault rifle and his ballistics mask, as well as other “party favors” that he needed for work. Grenades, spare ammo, that sort of thing. His apartment wasn’t far from where he had the other runners drop him off, but he would prefer if they didn’t know where he lived. Especially not that twitchy elf Storm Fang. Bad enough they knew the neighborhood. Minesweeper and Shade seemed decent enough maybe they’d catch some beers later. 

His neighborhood was in The Pit, one of the worst parts of the Rotten Apple, not as bad as The Terminal, but still as bad as they came. Not many of the gangs that roamed in this part of The Pit would mess with him, the few blocks around him were mostly full of orks, trolls, and other uglier metavariants. A few dwarves were around too, but not many. The humans here kept their heads down and paid the gangs protection, and the elves that traveled into this part of town were either stupid, crazy, or dangerous. Sometimes all 3. This was the kind of neighborhood Abrams had grown up in. 

There was a scream, loud and violent, and then a sharp crack and a wet thud, somewhere down the alley to Abrams’ left. The enhanced audio from his earpiece picked it up and Abrams let out a deep resigned sigh and turned sharply, into the sound of laughter and voices.

“Alright you fraggin goblins, we know you got something for us. What is it? Beetles? Maybe some moodies? Pills? Everyone of you damn tuskers is a thug and a druggie in this hood, so just give em over and we won’t have to have any more problems.” It was a woman's voice, thick from too many years smoking and drinking and screaming. 

Abrams had always had good eyesight, and the flickering yellow lamps in the small threadbare park ahead of him let him see clearly. The ork with his skull caved in, his girl crying over his limp form, cradling him, the large troll and her ork boyfriend eyes darting back and forth to the men and women surrounding them, guns out. The golden badges of one of the smaller police firms subcontracted to NYPD Inc that helped patrol The Pit from time to time. Mercenaries pretending to be cops.

Abrams ground his teeth, and slid his ballistics mask from his party bag and his FN HAR. “C’mon don’t hold out on us. Just give us want we want and the 3 of you can walk home and no one else has to die.” The woman spat out a gob of waxy chew. “Or we can finish taking out the rest of the trash here.” She pointed her shotgun at the sobbing ork woman. “Like her. Want to join your man in hell, slot?” 

Abrams had heard enough, and while armor piercing rounds were expensive he might be able to make enough back from the cops guns to break even. He shoved a flash bang into his pocket and slid his party bag behind the dumpster. Then he stood and began shooting. His first shots hit the cop in the back, putting her down. He was faster than his enemies, and had them by surprise. He reacted quickly, focusing his fire on the officers with the heaviest weapons first, and 2 more went down.

The 3 goblins stared for a moment then the troll woman grabbed the ork girl by the arm and began to drag her away. The cops were confused but they gathered their wits quickly, and Abrams felt their bullets pound into his armored jacket, a few of them would leave bruises, but their heavy pistols didn’t manage to penetrate. He had come prepared to fight elite corporate security tonight, and these cops weren’t even close to that level of threat. Two cops turned on the 3 fleeing goblins, guns ready, but the troll woman roared and something came to her call, an ethereal thick bodied bulldog, some sort of spirit. Abrams took a knee to steady his aim and with a few more shots he accounted for the rest of the cops.

Behind him there was a growl, a loud scream, and wet tearing sound. The last of the officers was lying in the fake grass of the crappy little park, clutching his throat as he bled out.


	9. Sounds like a Milk Run

Pancake sat huddled in her jacket in a private lounge overlooking the dance floor below. Her fingers idly pushing pieces around in an augmented reality game to pass the time. The map politely conformed to the shape of her table, and the make believe shadowrunners in front of her dodged evil spirits, faceless corporate security, and drone turrets at her whim. The person who had set up this meet was late, he was always late. She touched the top of the Human Decker piece and brought up his menu, telling the game he should hack the door lock. The game obeyed, showed a flash of virtual dice on the side of her vision, and reported a success. The door in her AR game slid open, revealing 3 troll bruisers, a dangerous obstacle. The door to the private lounge opened and revealed a lean, dark skinned elf. Her supposed friend “Free” Dubs, dressed in the flashiest pulsating electrochromatic clothing he had, his fiber optic hair changing color in tune with the music that now assaulted her ears through the open door.

“Short Stack! Sorry I’m late luv, the party downstairs is wicked yeah? Couldn’t get through the floor to get up here.” He said, opening his arms for a hug. Pancake frowned at him, pulling her hood down.

“Don’t call me Short Stack, Dubs. You know I don’t go by that handle anymore.” She blinked and the AR game fell away from her view, saving itself somewhere on the matrix for her to come back to later. The door behind him closed slowly, sealing the 2 away in relative silence. An awkward silence.

“No hugs for an old friend then luv?” She sighed and stood, allowing her friend to wrap her up in a warm embrace. She rested her head against his abdomen and sighed and pulled away, out of his arms. “That’s more like it, you had a drink yet?” He asked, going over to the rooms terminal. She blinked, and looked at him again. He was running almost dead, just a cheap weak burner comm was live. This wasn’t how the flashy Dubs she knew usually ran. She sat back down, frowning, sensing the flow of data between the comm and the terminal as he ordered drinks and food.

“Its Pancake now, Dubs. And you wanted my help?” She asked, drumming her fingers on the table idly. He sat across from her and spread his hands open. “Not me luv, I’m just the middle man. Got some friends who have a job for you, Librarians.”

This made Pancake pause, The Librarians were one of the few technomancer tribes active in the city. They considered the wireless matrix to be like the Great Library of ancient times, and were dedicated to exploring and learning from it. They weren’t above committing crimes in the matrix, hacking and data theft, but overall they weren’t as bad as some other tribes, like The Guild, who were more about vandalism and anarchy.

“They wanted me to set up a meet, so you’d know it wasn’t some job like with Madam Wu, its family business yeah? Other…” he waved his hand in her direction “people like you, yeah?” He had never been all that comfortable with technomancers, even when Pancake had joined his little hactivist slash trid-pirating collective. His hand slid across the table and cupped hers. “They will be here in a bit, I told em give us a bit of time to talk before, yeah? I’ll call’em when you’re ready to listen to ‘em.”

Pancake pulled her hand away. “Dubs. No.” She sighed and shook her head, stuffing her hands into her pockets. His eyes narrowed.

“You know what Jess you’ve changed since you started running these jobs for Wu.” His tone was angry and bitter. “You and me we used to make decent scratch yeah? Never got shot at, never had to worry about, well whatever the drek it is you gotta deal with out there. Why? I’ve been worried about you. And now word is you’ve shacked up with some fragging trog.”

Pancake frowned and clenched her fists inside her jacket. “None of your business anymore Dubs.”

“Its true! I can’t believe it, you walk out of our great set up, safe, and you take to cowboying it up on the streets and now you’re flatbacking under some horn head. How do you two even.” He made a motion with his hands and grimaced.

“William. Warner. Worthington.” She said through clenched teeth, using his full name. “That is none of your business. Not now, not ever. You ended any right to question my sex life the moment you….You know what, never mind, call your friends and get out. Call me again when you can mind your fragging business and show me some fragging respect.” Pancake was livid, and now she knew why Dubs was running mostly dead, if he had anything on him that was his she would have torn into it, bricked it, and left it a smoking ruin for him to deal with.

Dubs sat across from her and shook his head. “You think that trog is going to be any better than me? Whatever luv. The Librarians are on their way up. Call me when you’ve calmed down and we can go get high and party like we used to.”

The door opened and the music blasted into the room, and Dubs walked out into it. Pancake wiped her face and composed herself. Stupid William and his stupid elf charm. Stupid Pancake for thinking an elf like him could ever just keep 1 partner when cute boys and girls kept throwing themselves at him at parties and clubs. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The door opened again and Pancake looked up. A man and a woman, each in decent suits. Not club clothes. The woman was an elf, pale skin, shaved head. The man was human, his features mixed, with long hair and a beard. “May we sit?” Pancake nodded and motioned with a hand, still flustered.

“We heard everything, Pancake, we’re sorry. We didn’t realize the personal history between you and William was so intense.” The woman said, sighing. “Men like him live up to the worse of the stereotypes of elves and men at times.”

“Indeed, he is a skilled hacker and pirate but he lacks decency and personal discretion.” The man shook his head. “But we didn’t come here to talk about Dubs and his little trid pirating operation. We’re here for you, with a job. And an invitation.” The man paused and shook his head laughing slightly. “My apologies, we should introduce ourselves. I am Dewey. This is Alexandria.”

Pancake nodded and pulled her hood down, leaning forward. “Nice to meet you both, and you don’t have to apologize for him. He’s an ass. So what’s the job?” 

The pair looked at each other and Alexandria nodded. “Pancake, have you heard about what’s been going on in the technomancer community? The deaths?” She asked, her voice soft and sad. Pancake nodded, technomancers were dying to some sort of disease, possibly man made, possibly a technovirus unleashed in the matricx. It was only striking technomancers. “We have a lead on information, it's a thin lead, but it's something. All of the technomancer tribes have lost people, and it's not just here in the city. We’ve heard reports of the disease hitting all over the globe. We’ve lost friends, Pancake. Family.”

Dewey leaned forward. “It's risky, but we really are at a point of desperation. One of the guards at the prison has information, but they’re locked down in their on-site housing. She’s being extra paranoid, understandably so. We need you to go in, make contact. She’ll give you an info dump, then we get you out. You’ll be in for about a week.”

Pancake sat stunned, a week inside prison? As a SINless technomancer? She began to laugh nervously. “You’re kidding, right? You have to be. The cops run my SIN and I’m screwed, off to SINless work camps for the rest of my life. This is crazy. You’re both crazy.”

“We’ve got that covered Pancake. We’ve got the highest quality fake SIN money can buy, and the right people have been bribed. Once you go in you’ll be Amanda McNally, and once you get out Amanda McNally will die in a horrible accident, we’ll have cloned body parts for the coroner to verify your biometrics from. You’re familiar with with how that works, of course. It won’t be the first time that you’ve ‘died’, will it Miss Thornhauer?” Dewey asked.

Pancake froze, no one in the shadows knew her birth name. She had never told William, and Abrams didn’t pry into her past. “How?”

“We are very particular about who we work with, and what would a Librarian be if they couldn’t do research.” Alexandria smiled and stood, flicking AR objects out into the air between them. “Born 22 years ago as Jessica Thornhauer, went missing at age 17. Parents held funeral for you at age 18 after police found fresh blood near a hellhound nest. Took up the alias Jessica Janet Jones, private investigator. Survived by 2 parents, an aunt, and a cousin.” She threw up pictures of family Pancake hadn’t seen in 5 years and tapped the picture of the cousin she barely remembered. “Cousin Michelle Thornhauer-Bach has started to exhibit early signs of resonance abilities at the age of 14. Also has been diagnosed with epilepsy, cause unknown.” Alexandria waved her hand and the images vanished. “Your cousin is showing early symptoms of the disease. It will progress, feeding on her resonance, until she dies.”

Pancake’s mouth worked but nothing came out. Little Michelle was a freak like her? And she had whatever it was that was slowly killing technomancers? Finally she found a voice, but she wasn’t sure if it was hers or not. “OK. How do we do this?”

“Like we said, you get arrested as Amanda. You will take these pills” Dewey slid a tiny capsule of unmarked pills across to her. “You’ll smuggle this in with you. The pills neutralize your connection with the resonance.” He held up one hand to stop her as her mouth opened. “They’re safe, we have both taken them on multiple occasions to sneak into places where our connection to the resonance would have given our identities away. Each lasts a few days at a time, there are enough pills in there to last you for months just in case you lose any or anything happens and you need extra. When the job is done keep what’s left. You cannot go in as a resonant. Their security will find out. We will handle everything out here, your apartment, your SIN will continue to move around the city and act like a real person.”

Pancake shrunk into her chair. “And if anything goes sideways while I’m in?” She asked, knowing that she had to take the job deep down in her gut.

“The chances are small, but if something happens we’ll make sure that the right people know. People who can get you out.” 

Pancake sighed and nodded. “I’m in, lets work on details.” The Librarians smiled breathed a sigh of relief.

Hours later, Pancake sat alone in the private balcony. Outside The Librarians waited, she touched her comm and Abrams’ deep rumble answered. “Hey Pancake. Where you at?”

“Jason, listen, I gotta head out of town in a hurry, its family business. Don’t worry I won’t be gone long OK big guy?” Her voice shook, she hoped he didn’t notice.

“Anything you need help with?” He asked, that little note of concern that played at the edge of his voice when he was worried made Pancake smile.

“No, I got this. Abrams I.” She stopped, she couldn’t finish the last 3 words that she wanted to say. “I’ll miss you, I’ll be home soon I promise.” Damnit, why were her eyes wet again.

“I’ll miss you too, be careful Jess.”


	10. moving woes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so this is the hardest one for me to include in the timeline as a chapter. It references my old game heavily and the players had an idea to get a place together. This chapter will probably get heavily edited in the future to make more sense, but for now it serves a bridge to the next 2 chapters

Miranda threw a series of mean punches and kicks into the heavy bag that Abrams braced for her, grunting with every solid blow she landed. “So why the frag are you moving again? You sure you can trust these people?” She asked the troll, moving to sit on the bench and picking up her sports drink. “Really sure?” She pushed, downing the cold blue liquid with its vague flavoring.

Abrams looked around the gym, it was quiet this early in the morning. The other patrons ignored the odd pair. He the nearly 9 foot tall troll, covered in faint scars and obviously dangerous. She, the over 6 foot tall human woman with thick muscles who needed a troll to brace her punching bag. Keeping them safe from prying ears she had a small anti-eavesdropping device going. Enough to keep their conversation private.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. They helped me get that last job done, and Ursine’s body out of that building, didn’t even blink. They just backed me up, didn’t argue or question why. They might be one of the most balanced crews I’ve ever run with. And get this, one of them is a full on Catholic Priest.” 

Miranda almost choked on her sports drink. “You have got to be kidding me chummer.” She said, wiping her mouth dry. “No way.”

“White robes and everything. Neo-Catholic finger wiggling dwarf. At first I thought he had a few screws loose, been hit in the head one time too many, but he’s legit.” Abrams spread his hands. “All sorts live in the shadows, M.J.”

“I guess.” She shook her head and leaned back, sweat making her naturally red hair stick to her forehead. “O.K. So they’re good people, I’ll take your word. But why shack up with them? I mean, your old place was cozy and it was private. What happens when you want me to come over for a few beers because you had a bad run? Or you just want to crash out and watch Fight Ball with me? Gonna have a few runners looking at us sideways if we’re in the common area, and I’m not putting up with any drek from your chummers if we do crash out on your bed while watching some old trid.”

“You’d crash, I got the implant remember? 3 hours of sleep and I’m good to go. But I’ll deal with’em. We got a satyr there, team treats her proper. They’ll respect you too. If they don’t I’m pretty sure a swift kick in jaw will set them straight.” Abrams grinned tapping the bag with one fist. “I mean hell I’ve felt your kicks, they’re nothing to laugh at.”

“Thanks. O.K., so your crew, they won’t give us any drek. What about Pancake? How that bit head going to feel about not being able to run around your apartment in nothing but her Zeta the Warrior Wizard t-shirt?” Miranda teased her friend about the time his sometimes lover stumbled into his living room half naked while they were cleaning their pistols and shooting the drek about their respective jobs.

“I, uh, haven’t heard from Pancake in a few months. She left town on family business. Told me she’d contact me when business was taken care of. Her comms dead, messages bounce back as User Not Found. No one knows what happened.” Abrams clenched his fist and looked down. “It happens, in the shadows. Friends get swallowed up by the darkness.”

“Frag, Jason, why didn’t you tell me?” Miranda looked at her friends face, the troll was normally hard to read. A stone in the middle of a stormy ocean. But she could see in the set of his jaw, the crease of his brow, he was upset. This wasn’t the sadness he felt after Haloa Kana died, this was something else. “I got your back, you know that right?” Her voice was quiet, reassuring.

“I know, didn’t want to worry you. When she gets back in town she knows how to track me down, we run in the same circles. She’s resourceful, I know she’ll be back soon.” Abrams shook his head and looked away, wiping his face with one massive hand. Miranda didn’t mention the moistness at the corners of his eyes. “And if she can’t make it home because she’s been geeked I guess I’m going to have to deal with it.” His fists clenched tighter and Miranda stood, putting one hand on his back.

“If she doesn’t make it back, and you know for sure she isn’t coming home, you call me Jason. Promise me.” She felt his muscles relax, and he nodded his head and let out a breath.

“Yeah, I can’t think about it right now Miranda. Tomorrow I move my mattress and table into the apartment. You still going to help?”

“Yeah, chummer, I’ll help. I’ll try not to look like a badge when I do.” She smiled up at him as he turned, she could still see the strain in his eyes but it was fading. Abrams was good at that, acting tough. And he was tough, she knew it, but even the most heavily armored tank had its weak spots. Losing friends, lovers? That was bad. Not knowing if someone you cared about was alive or dead, that was even worse.


	11. Family Business

Free Dubs was usually a happy guy. He was happy because he had a lot going for him. First of all, Dubs was an elf. A lot of people liked elves, envied them, wanted to be like them or be liked by them. He was also a talented hacker, and with those skills he could get his hands on things that people wanted. Mostly he dealt in pirated trids and music, sometimes he dealt in data packets, information. That made him money, and that money brought him a nice home. A nice home to bring those men and women that wanted to be liked by an elf as handsome as he was. 

His was usually a life of hedonistic pleasure. A little bit of work in the matrix punctuated by hours of club hopping, drugs, and then going home with a new friend to wake up to and forget the next day. That was most days.

Today was not like most days. Today Free Dubs was not getting to dance, or seduce, or get lost in a drug filled haze. Today Dubs was sitting across from a very large, very dangerous looking troll. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know what was happening. All he knew is he had been snatched from the bathroom of a seedy night club, drugged, and carted off to a dead zone. A place without the matrix. A place where even if he could connect to his deck he couldn’t have done anything. A place where the great hacker and pirate Free Dubs was virtually powerless. The troll smiled. “Do you know who I am?” Dubs shook his head.

“Ah. I thought you might know me. We have a mutual friend. I’d like to know where she went. I was hoping you could tell me.” The troll leaned forward slowly, the pink scar on his throat catching and holding Dubs’ eyes. He shook in his chair under the trolls cold stare. 

“Who?” He croaked out, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face.

“Jessica.” The troll answered saying the name slowly.

Everything clicked into place. Dubs wasn’t a stupid man. “You mean Short Stack, yeah?” He began to talk, and the words poured out of him. “Yeah yeah, Jess, mate she’s doing a job. The Librarians set it up. I don’t know where she is, I just know it had something to do with freaks like her and the Librarians, yeah? You should ask them, please, I don’t know what the job was. I just set it up.” He was trying to push himself back into his chair. This was Short Stacks new lover. The trog that she had shacked up with after she had started working shadow jobs for Madam Wu. After she had caught him cheating on her. After she started calling herself Pancake. “Frag man, I don’t know, she’s on the job.”

The troll stood, looking down at the elf. “Freak?” His voice was cold.

“Ah frag, you know, I mean you have to! About her I mean, yeah? She’s a freak but its cool, she’s cool. Short Stack I mean. She’s good people, despite.” Dubs stopped suddenly as the troll picked up a small backpack. Dubs’ backpack. “No mate, no that’s my deck. I need that, please.”

The troll patted the backpack with one massive hand. “I will give you some advice. Free. I wouldn’t call Pancake a freak again. It would be a costly mistake for you. Understand?” Dubs nodded and closed his eyes. “Good. Now, I want you to be very clear with me. She’s on a job working for a group called the Librarians?” Dubs nodded again, breathing heavily and feeling an emptiness inside of himself. Fear, cold and empty, gnawing at him. “And you were the middle man for setting up this job. You contacted her.” He nodded again. “And can you contact these Librarians for me, set up a meet?” 

“I think so yeah, just don’t hurt me mate. Or my deck. I just want to go home. Please.”

The troll laughed. “Hurt you? I was never going to hurt you. Just scare you a bit. Pancake told me about you William. How you hurt her.” The massive trolls hands clapped down on the hackers shoulder. “Time for you to start making up for that mistake. Earn some forgiveness.”


	12. The Fate of Pancake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last thing I wrote for Abrams. I want to write more. Who knows.

Abrams frowned as he sat at a small table in one of New York’s remaining public libraries. The chair under his massive troll frame creaked slightly. Around him the shelves had cardboard replicas of books, and the image of a pretty human woman with glasses waited to be interacted with in augmented reality, the computer program simulating a human so that flesh and blood people would feel more comfortable. This place was a museum to the 5th world, its analog technologies, now replaced by the world of the matrix and augmented reality. No one except the poorest people living in slums used books or print, even the very very rich only had antique books they kept as testimonies of their wealth. No, the poor read on cheap recycled pulp or plastic, the middle only read whatever their commlink put in front of them, and the very rich showed off the relics of the old world but never touched them.

“My grandparents used to tell me stories about places like this, before UGE, in the old world. Before the corps ran everything.” The woman behind him said. At just over 6′ tall she cut an imposing figure even in her casual clothing. “Its almost a shame, isn’t it Abrams?”

Abrams grunted and ran a hand through is ruddy hair and shot a glance at his friend. “They’re running late Miranda. I don’t like this.” Abrams rapped his fingers on the plastic table molded to look like real wood. “What if they don’t show?”

“Please forgive our tardiness,” the holographic woman said turning from the book stacks and walking over to the table, visible to both Abrams and Miranda in AR “we ran into a problem. Our bodyguards took care of it, we will be there shortly.” The image bowed and then flickered and returned to its place by the fake bookshelves. 

The pair shared a look and Miranda placed a reassuring hand on Abrams’ shoulder. Abrams reached up and patted it taking comfort in his friends presence. They stayed like that for awhile. Miranda’s quiet reassurance calming the thunderstorm of emotions inside of the big troll. Finally the soft sound of foot prints made Abrams sit up straighter. 

First around the corner was a man of indeterminate descent with his long dark hair pulled back, his beard close cut and neat. Just behind him was a tall lean elf, her head shaved, her eyes piercing and cold. Both looked like they belonged more in a board room than the quiet halls of the public library. “I am Alexandria, and this is Dewey. We understand you wanted to speak with us.” The woman spoke, each word precise and measured.

“I did.” Abrams said, motioning to the chairs in front of him. “A friend of mine is missing, and I was told that you may know where she is.” Dewey and Alexandria shared a look for just a moment. “I just want to know where she is.”

“She is safe.” Alexandria pronounced, sitting down smoothly. “She will contact you soon, I am sure.” 

Abrams fist slammed down on the table, causing the virtual librarian to make a hushing motion at them. “Drek. If she was able to she would have contacted me already. Tell me the truth.” Abrams’ words were growled out in a low rumble.

“And why should we tell you Jason McBride?” Dewey said, observing his nails. “Or worse, risk exposing ourselves to NYPD inc via your friend Officer Miranda Jean Wright?” He looked both of them in the eye in turn. “You are both risks for us, and our community. Especially her.” 

“You obviously know a lot about both of us. I shouldn’t be surprised, you call yourselves Librarians from what Abrams tells me. So if you know so much about us you should know that we both only want Pancake to be safe. She’s our fragging friend.”

“Enough Dewey, she cannot expose us without exposing herself. as she is aware. She walks a dangerous path.” The pale elf sighed slowly. “Pancake is safe, but she is not well. She took a significant risk to get us information we all needed. She paid for it.” Dewey started to open his mouth but Alexandria touched his hand. “No brother. He should know. Pancake is in a coma.”

Both Miranda and Abrams sucked in a breath. Abrams looked down at his hands. Enemies he could fight. Adepts, mages, street sams, gangers. He could fight them. But a coma, there was nothing he could do. “Tell me. Everything. Please.” Abrams tried to keep the tremble from his voice. 

He failed.

“The brief version is that we sent her to meet with a contact for some information in the Pen. We provided her with pills to suppress her connection to the resonance. She was in for too long. Her contact was compromised, and she refused to come out until she had the info. But once we extracted her there was a side effect, one we could not have predicted. Her system went into shock once she reconnected to the resonance.” Alexandria shook her head slowly. “She is not in the resonance, we have looked for her. Desperately.”

“Was it worth it?” The troll asked quietly.

“It was, Mr. McBride. The information she retrieved for us has saved the lives of dozens of our kind, and that’s only within the last few months. It will continue to save lives.” Dewey said proudly.

“You will take me to her. Now.” Abrams said, standing. “Please.”

The Librarians shared a look again, and then Alexandria stood. “It was inevitable that you would ask. We will take you to your friend. Both of you. Just be respectful of those you find there, we are not used to visitors in our sanctum.”

The ride was long, and quiet. Miranda kept her hand on the big trolls arm, being there for him. Abrams, was too lost in the passing scenery outside the window as they drove through the city in the discreet van. The Librarians didn’t bother speaking. The building they pulled to was old, on the outskirt of the city proper. Solid brick, quiet, unassuming. The inside was just as quiet. Rooms with young people in various states of dress, eyes zoned out. Punks and suits, orks and elves. Technomancers. “Our tribe.” Dewey said proudly. “Deep in the heart of the matrix gathering information. Cataloging it. Or relaxing, they’re young we give them the freedom to be who they are.” Abrams grunted and made no comment. He was focused on only one thing. “In here.” The man said, pointing at a simple door.

Abrams took a breath and braced himself, and opened it. Inside the room was well lit, and Abrams ducked to fit through the door. The sheets were clean, the machinery hooked up to her limp form beeped steadily. Abrams only saw her face. Resting, tired. Blank. “You let her hair go back to its natural color. She’ll hate that.” His voice was low. The girl next to the bed stood, her rainbow hair falling to the side of her face. Her eyes went from Abrams to the Librarians and back.

“Come Echo, lets give them some privacy. It may do her good to hear his voice.” Alexandria said quietly, motioning the girl from the room. Abrams reached down and gently touched Pancake’s cheek. 

“Jess, you in there?” His voice cracked and he slumped to his knees. “Its me, I’m here. Miranda’s here too. You hair is different.” Abrams gave up the fight, and the tears flowed down his cheeks. “Its good to see you. I’ve missed you.” He choked on his words as his entire body was wracked by a spasm of worry and sadness and pain and tears.

“Please Pancake, wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of a series of fictions I wrote for Abrams as part of writing prompts. It is current time line for Abrams and most if not all of any fiction I choose to write for him from this point forward will be continuing his current story. Enjoy!


End file.
